No Need to Say Goodbye

‘By all means. I shall place your affairs in the hands of Mr Gerald Ridgely, who will apprise you of all the details. If you could make it convenient to see him at noon, today?’

She got there with a few minutes to spare; there had been time for her to change into the suit she had bought at Country Casuals’ sale; it wasn’t quite warm enough for the chilly March day, but she felt well dressed in it. Her abundant hair she had pinned neatly into a chignon, and her shoes were well polished. After all, it was a momentous occasion, worthy of her best efforts.

The solicitors had rooms in an old house just off Holborn; steep stairs led her to the first floor, where she found a vinegar-faced and very thin woman at a desk. Upon hearing her name, the woman led her wordlessly to a door at the end of a short passage.

The man who rose to shake her hand was grey-haired and looked as though he needed a thorough dusting. ‘Young Mr Ridgely,’ intoned the thin woman and left them. Louise took the chair she was offered, wondering just how old the elder Mr Ridgely might be if this was the young one, and dismissed the thought as frivolous.

‘You are Miss Louise Payne?’ The dusty gentleman sounded suspicious. She opened her bag and produced her birth certificate, thankful that she had had the wit to bring it with her. He read it carefully and slowly, and nodded several times, and then opened the file in front of him.

‘You know of your great-aunt’s house and where it is situated?’

‘Oh, yes. Although I haven’t been there for a very long time. My parents took us there several times when they were alive.’ Just in case he was still suspicious, she added, ‘A small white house on a corner with trees around it.’

‘Just so, Miss Payne. There are of course some changes in Much Hadham; it is a much sought-after area in which to live, being near enough to London for those who work here to commute. You could get a very good price for the house…’

Louise shook her head. ‘I haven’t had a chance to talk it over with my sisters and brother, but I think they will want to live there—I know I do.’

He looked at her over his old-fashioned, gold-rimmed spectacles. ‘I understand that you are a night sister at St Nicholas’s Hospital? You will be able to continue your work there if you should decide to live in your great-aunt’s house?’

‘Oh, no. I would have to find another job—Bishop’s Stortford or Stevenage, I suppose, but it would be marvellous for Christine and Michael; they’re still both at school and not very happy where they are now. Zoë, who is nearly nineteen, is just finishing a secretarial course and, I hope, will get a job.’

‘There is very little money in your great-aunt’s estate; she has made provision for her housekeeper—’ he glanced at the files ‘—Miss Wills, who is already in receipt of her retirement pension.’ He coughed drily. ‘The sum of one thousand, four hundred and twenty three pounds, eighty-five pence is available to you; such debts, funeral expenses and so forth have already been discharged.’

Louise, with a bank balance of slightly less than a thousand pence, managed to restrain her yelp of delight. She asked, she hoped not too eagerly, ‘Is the house furnished?’

‘Yes. I should add that when I was last there, a good deal of it was too large for the house; mid-Victorian. Do you have your own furniture?’

‘Well, yes, not a great deal, but what there is is rather nice—left from the house where we lived before we came to London.’

‘Then if I might advise you, Miss Payne, I should visit your great-aunt’s house—your house, I should say! It is called Ivy Cottage, by the way—and decide what you wish to keep; the rest you might sell and add to your capital. The money due to you will be paid into your bank if you will be so good as to let me have particulars of that before you go. The house is empty and I will give you the keys now.’

He handed over a bunch of old-fashioned keys, each one labelled. ‘If there is anything I can do for you, do not hesitate to let me know. Now, if I might have the name of your bank?’

They parted soberly, because young Mr Ridgely would have been shocked if she had hugged him or danced a jig of pure joy on his Turkish carpet. She walked away from the sombre building with her feet upon air, her head full of a hundred and one ideas, most of them highly impractical. It was an occasion for champagne, singing and dancing, none of which would go down well in High Holborn. A bus home, she decided, allowing the sensible side of her nature to get the upper hand, a strong cup of tea and a good think.

Here fate took a hand: Dr van der Linden, going about his own business on the opposite side of the street, caught sight of her and, even at that distance, he could see the glow of sheer happiness on her face. Intrigued, he crossed over.

‘Either you have won the pools or you have accepted an offer of marriage from a millionaire,’ he observed, not bothering with a good morning.

Louise raised her lovely eyes to his. She was in such a state that it seemed perfectly natural that he should join her there on the pavement; rather like a dream, when the most extraordinary things seemed quite normal.

‘I don’t know any millionaires, and I can’t afford the pools, but yes, something quite marvellous has happened.’

‘In that case, come and tell me all about it.’

He didn’t wait for her to answer, but took her arm and walked up Grays Inn Road and turned into Theobald’s Road, where he ushered her into a smart brasserie.

As they went inside, Louise said half-heartedly, ‘But I must get home.’

‘Of course, but you may as well lunch with me now we are here.’

It was not yet one o’clock; they had a table for two by the window and Dr van der Linden said, ‘Whatever it is, you are in no state to order a meal. Allow me?’

She would have eaten dry bread and water quite cheerfully; as it was, she polished off salmon mousse, a cheese soufflé of incredible lightness and fresh pineapple doused in kirsch and whipped cream, all the while only half listening to her companion’s easy flow of small talk. It was only when the coffee-tray had been set before them that he said, ‘Now, supposing you unburden yourself; it won’t seem real until you do.’

She still felt as though she were in a dream, which was perhaps why she began without preamble. ‘I’ve inherited a house—from a great-aunt I haven’t seen in years. The marvellous thing is this, our landlord actually gave us notice to move out of our house because it’s been sold, and I had no idea what I could do.’ She poured their coffee, beaming at him across the little table. ‘Now we can go to Much Hadham…’

He interrupted her abruptly. ‘Much Hadham? The village near Ware?’

She was still too bemused to notice the abruptness. ‘Yes. It’s a small house called Ivy Cottage. There’s a garden, a real one, not just a dusty strip of grass, and trees, and Mike and Christine can go to decent schools and Zoë is bound to get a good job…’

‘And you?’ he prompted.

‘Me? No, I mean I, don’t I? I’ll get a job at Bishop’s Stortford or Stevenage.’ Her practical mind was beginning to take over again. ‘I’m sorry to bore you with all this; you’ve been very kind. I think I was so bowled over that I could have danced a jig in the middle of Holborn. You see, it’s a miracle…’

His voice was reassuringly matter of fact. ‘They do occur.’

He gave her an abstracted smile and she said hurriedly, ‘Thank you for my lunch, I did enjoy it. I must be getting back.’

He made no effort to detain her, but paid the bill and walked back the way they had come. In High Holborn she stopped. ‘There is my bus stop…’

He ignored her, and lifted an arm to a passing taxi, put her inside, closed the door on her with a suave, ‘Allow me,’ and paid the driver and gave her address. She sat there, too astonished to speak, while the cab bore her homewards. He hadn’t even said goodbye, she remembered; he must have been bored out of his mind. She went a bright pink at the idea and the cabby, glancing back in his mirror, thought what a very pretty girl she was.

Dusty was delighted to see her again and, since there was no one else to talk to, she told him all about it while she hoovered and polished and hung out lines of washing, impatient for the others to come home.

She had tea ready for them, and over that meal told them the news.

‘We would have had to move anyway,’ she finished, ‘but now we will have a real home of our own and no rent to pay…’

They sat and stared at her, speechless until Mike let out a whoop of delight. ‘I’ll be able to leave this school…’

‘So will I,’ crowed Christine. Not a demonstrative family by nature, they hugged each other, talking a good deal of nonsense and making outrageous plans. Louise went to the dark little pantry and fetched out a bottle of sherry she had been saving for Zoë’s nineteenth birthday and opened it, and they sat round, the washing up forgotten, while she told them her own sensible plans. They agreed to everything that she suggested; she was the eldest and a good deal older than they were, and they had become accustomed to go to her for help and advice. If she said that it was the best thing for them to move, then move they would, and be overjoyed to do it.

On her first morning after her return to night duty, she went to the office and handed in her resignation; she had always got on well with the senior nursing officer, and now she was listened to with sympathy.

‘In the circumstances,’ declared Miss Pritchard, ‘I can understand that you have no choice but to move to this house which you have been left—most fortuitously, I must add. I shall be very sorry to lose you, Sister, and can but hope that you will be able to find another post near your new home. You can rely upon me to give you an excellent reference, and if I can help in any way, I shall be glad to do so.’

Her friends at the hospital received her news with mixed feelings; she was well liked and, moreover, they had all known each other for a number of years, but they echoed Miss Pritchard’s opinion; there was nothing else for Louise to do. There was no question of selling the house at Much Hadham, she would never get sufficient for it to buy anything similar in London, and in a way, she reflected on her journey home, it was nice not having to make up her mind about it; circumstances had done that for her. She composed a letter to the landlord before she went to bed, and slept soundly for the first time in days.

CHAPTER TWO

ON THE first day of Louise’s next nights off they all went to Much Hadham, Dusty, on his best behaviour, going with them. It was a short journey and they were there before ten o’clock, walking down the village street with its charming mixture of sixteenth and seventeenth-century cottages and large Georgian town houses. The house was more or less in the centre of the village, standing cornerwise on to the junction of a side lane and the main street. It wasn’t large but, even so, bigger than their house in Hoxton, and there was, as far as they could see as they approached it, a sizeable garden. Louise unlocked the front door and they crowded in silently, to stand in the narrow hall and gaze around them. The passage ran from the front door to the back, where there was another stout door, and on either side there were two doors, with a pretty little staircase near the backdoor.

After a few moments Louise walked to the back door and opened it. The garden was nicely old-fashioned, although neglected, but there was a fair-sized grass plot, flowerbeds and, along the end wall, what had been a vegetable patch with the garden shed at one end of it. Still silently she led the others into the first room: the kitchen, with a stone-flagged floor, a very elderly Aga cooker, an old-fashioned dresser and Windsor chairs around a wooden table. Its windows overlooked the garden at the back.

Louise said at once, ‘Someone to see to the stove; we can paint the walls and plan to make curtains and polish the furniture…’ She didn’t wait for an answer, but led the way across the hall and opened another door. A small room with worn lino on its floor and faded curtains, but the desk in it was a charming one of rosewood, badly in need of a polish, with a sabrelegged Regency chair drawn up to it, and there was a library table against one wall, flanked by two matching chairs.

‘Nice,’ commented Louise, and led her party back into the hall and into the room facing the small front garden. It must have been the drawing-room, they decided, for there were several easy chairs, shabby but whole, a long case clock and a glass-fronted bookcase, as well as a pier table under the window. The carpet under their feet was faded but still good, if somewhat grubby. ‘A good scrub,’ said Louise as they went into the last room. The dining-room, small and rather dark by reason of the gloomy wallpaper and heavy serge curtains. But the table at its centre was solid mahogany, as were the four chairs around it, and there was a sideboard of the same wood.